


Things

by Briarwitch



Category: The Cat in the Hat - Dr. Seuss
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 02:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briarwitch/pseuds/Briarwitch
Summary: Thing One reveals the true nature of his servitude and master.





	Things

It’s dark in this box.

Dark and cramped and the air is stale. 

She is curled up and dozing on my chest. I can feel the weight of her head. I am not sleeping. There really isn’t room in here for both of us to lie down and sleep at the same time. So I am sitting up and staring into the darkness while she sleeps.

She is usually the one sleeping. I don’t mind; I don’t seem to need sleep much anymore. Besides, I get nightmares.

Sometimes there is light in our box. It comes through the cracks where the edges meet. I can see her then. Her eyes are two shining black orbs, and her face is pale. It’s as if all the blood has been taken from her body.

Perhaps it has been. We wear red, she and I. Dark sanguine jumpsuits the color of red roses. Or blood. Sometimes, alone in the dark, I seem to think it was our blood that dyed our suits, and in my nightmares I remember the smell of it; I remember my soul flowing out through my open veins.

I don’t know if that is a real memory though. It’s hard to remember what is real sometimes. And it is hard to remember a time before we were in this box, before our blood was gone and our hair was blue. Our hair is dead. It has burned and frizzed into clouds around our heads. It has faded to a gray silver-blue.

I can’t remember our names, or even why she is ‘she’ and I am ‘he.’ But sometimes, in the dark, I remember sunlight on blonde hair. I remember grass and birds, crisp leaves on a fall morning, and walking somewhere with a backpack. And sometimes, if I have a clear mind and enough time to think, I remember a face that looks like hers, but is alive.  
These memories come in flashes. Sometimes I wonder if they are real memories, or if they are dreams; dreams of a time before The Cat.

When I sleep, I have nightmares about The Cat. But waking does no good, because he is not a dream. He is a creature of flesh and blood, and he is here in the waking world. Perhaps that is why she always sleeps. Perhaps he is not in her dreams. I hope so, but I don’t know for sure. She doesn’t talk about her dreams.

The Cat is tall, as tall as he wants to be, and black as crow feathers, so black that you can only see his blacker spots when you’re pressed against his fur. He is a leopard shaped like a man, who walks on two legs and has hands tipped with snow-white claws. His face is a twisted combination of feline and human, and atop his head he wears a hat, mocking the trappings of humanity.

And his eyes, oh, his eyes. They burn from the darkness with the luminous yellow of sulfur fire. Those eyes follow me in the blackness of my dreams, glowing in the shadows while the rest of him stays hidden.

He is the one who tricked us here, back in the days I only half remember. He is the one who put us in this box. He is the one who stole our voices and our names.  
It is because of him that we are no longer human. We are objects, things. We are soulless and mute.

And he is our master.

Mankind has one constant fear. It is the fear of the unseen thing waiting for you to turn your back, the thing that will pounce on you from behind or above. The leopard stalked humans long ago, when our ancestors lived in the forests. They waited for you to turn your back, then jumped on you from behind or above.

When humans left the forests, the leopards followed. They followed us to Asia, Russia, Europe, the Americas. They are there, waiting and unseen. And when humans began to conquer nature, to wipe out their old foes, the leopards had to get smarter. They had to become more than they were. 

And they did.

Do not play with the cat that walks and talks like a man. Do not play with the leopard in the hat.

He is going to eat you.

Or you will join us in the box. You will join us as we smile and do his bidding. You will join us as we watch him rip open the bellies of children and feast.

You will not have a choice.


End file.
